Latest news with #BritishIranian
Telegraph
05-07-2025
- Politics
- Telegraph
Why I'm banned from Iran, Israel and the US – despite breaking no rules
Persian by blood, British by birth. A dual citizen who visited Iran every year of her life – until recently – to see the relatives still living there. I wouldn't change my heritage for the world, but I'd be lying if I said it hadn't caused a few problems when it comes to travel. It's a strange thing, being effectively barred from three of the world's most fascinating countries – without ever having broken a single rule. As a British-Iranian journalist, I've found myself… less than welcome, shall we say, in Iran, Israel and the US. Caught in a tangled web of international politics and passport technicalities, I've been forced to forgo opportunities and miss moments that matter. I remember being offered a press trip to Israel in the early days of my career – long before recent events – and telling my dad the exciting news. He shut it down almost instantly. 'If you go, you may never be allowed back into Iran,' he warned. At the time, I couldn't believe the two were so mutually exclusive. I'd hoped to visit Israel and Palestine with open eyes, to experience the people and cultures first-hand. But that door closed before it ever opened. The irony? Iran is now effectively off the table too. I haven't been banned – not officially – but as a journalist, the risks of a misunderstanding at the border are all too real. My parents' growing concern about my return is likely justified, no matter how frustrating it is to hear. And then there's the US. In 2016, I received an email informing me that my ESTA – the visa waiver British travellers take for granted – had been revoked. No explanation, just a blunt notification that I'd now need to apply for a full tourist visa. The reason? A sweeping policy affecting anyone who holds Iranian nationality or has travelled to certain countries since 2011. It was Iran, Iraq, Syria and Sudan at the time – and more have since been added to the list. I know what you're thinking: just give up the Iranian citizenship. But that's easier said than done – and not something I want to do. My Iranian passport may be expired, but holding onto it, or even just the national ID card, is a tether to my roots. To the country in which my parents were born, where my grandparents are buried, and where so many of my relatives still live. Retaining that citizenship is more than a legal technicality – it's a deeply personal connection to my culture, my language and my family. Growing up, I didn't always appreciate those annual visits, but I now see them as some of the most meaningful experiences of my life. And I'm far from alone. Thousands of dual nationals, including friends and colleagues, find themselves in similar limbo. Holding onto that second passport is, for many of us, a way of preserving our identity. But it comes with baggage: extra scrutiny at borders, bureaucratic hurdles and, in my case, a growing list of no-go zones. I've lost count of the number of times someone's told me, 'Just apply for an ESTA!' as if I haven't thought of that. Being shut out of a country based on your heritage is frustrating enough, and being met with blank stares or misguided advice when you try to explain why just adds insult to injury. I was lucky, in some ways. After graduating, I did manage to travel across the States – a three-month coast-to-coast road trip that I'll never forget. I returned again that winter for New Year's Eve in New York. At the time, I'd been torn between the US and backpacking through Southeast Asia. Now I'm glad I chose America – because that window has long since closed. Lately, though, I've had the itch again. There are places I'd love to revisit, friends I miss and cities I've yet to explore. But it's not simple. Getting a US visa isn't impossible, but appointments are backed up, and processing can take months. I could maybe get one for 2026 – if I'm lucky. Even then, there's the risk of being pulled aside at customs. It's an exhausting process to go through every time you just want to travel. I've already missed out on so much. I can't see the Savannah Bananas play (yes, really – look them up on Instagram). I've had to turn down work trips, missed invitations from friends, and soon I'll miss a close family friend's wedding in New York. None of my immediate family can go. My mum wanted to celebrate her 70th birthday in California next year. I've told her to keep up her gym routine and take her vitamins – we may have to delay that milestone. As for Iran, I haven't seen some of my relatives in a decade. When one set of aunts and uncles were able to get visas to visit their son in Canada, my sister and I flew out to meet them there. I'm so grateful we did. It's bittersweet to see travellers on Instagram and TikTok venturing to Iran, sharing the beauty of the country I know so well – its hospitality, its landscapes, its culture. I feel a pang of envy every time. Because while the world feels more connected than ever, people like me remain quietly, frustratingly, stuck in between.
San Francisco Chronicle
21-04-2025
- Entertainment
- San Francisco Chronicle
Book Review: Sara Jafari's 'Things Left Unsaid' is a tale of tentative lovers who keep connecting
Sara Jafari's 'Things Left Unsaid' is a love-craving, tumbling tale of two Iranian British friends who first meet in high school — the self-skeptic and pessimist Shirin Bayat, and the traumatized Kian Rahimi. Kian was 15 years old when his older brother, Mehdi, was incarcerated and blames himself partly for what happened. Shirin, for her part, battles anxiety and depression. In high school in the northern English city of Hull, Shirin falls in love with Kian, her only close male friend, but she can't open up to him about it. Kian feels the same about Shirin; he fancies her and imagines her lips on his, but kept it quiet. Shirin and Kian both went their separate ways after school until 10 years later when they unexpectedly meet again at a friend's party in London. They have a lot in common: They have both faced discrimination — they were their school's only two non-white students and now Shirim finds the same situation at work. Shirin kept thinking of Kian throughout the decade-long separation. Even though Shirin kept in touch with her female friends from her high school days, she always had a sense of unfulfillment, a sense of pessimism and skepticism. Her parents had separated when she was in college. 'Shirin thinks there is an ugliness inside her sometimes, some kind of repressed anger that she takes out on other people in her mind,' the author writes. But her thoughts of Kian, and her desire for them to be together again one day, give her a sense of hope and relief. When the two reunite again in London at their friend Millie's 27th birthday party, Shirin's love for her old friend resurfaces. But it comes a little too late: Salma, who Kian was now seeing, is also at the party. Shirin even asks Kian to kiss her, but he doesn't because she's drunk. These would-be lovers have one final meeting — at a dinner party in New York in 2020, where Kian is now living. She confesses to having a lot of regrets and that she had been thinking about him during their decade-long separation. Kian confesses he had imagined her kissing him while they were in school. 'Why didn't we make it work?' Kian asks, adding that he wanted it to. Shirin responds with 'I want that, too…' Could this time be the time they finally get together? Or has a gulf developed between them? Beautifully written in simple language, the London-based British Iranian author Jafari continuously pulls anxious readers along to find out what becomes of Shirin's and Kian's craving for each other. ___
Hindustan Times
21-04-2025
- Entertainment
- Hindustan Times
Book Review: Sara Jafari's 'Things Left Unsaid' is a tale of tentative lovers who keep connecting
Sara Jafari's 'Things Left Unsaid' is a love-craving, tumbling tale of two Iranian British friends who first meet in high school — the self-skeptic and pessimist Shirin Bayat, and the traumatized Kian Rahimi. Kian was 15 years old when his older brother, Mehdi, was incarcerated and blames himself partly for what happened. Shirin, for her part, battles anxiety and depression. In high school in the northern English city of Hull, Shirin falls in love with Kian, her only close male friend, but she can't open up to him about it. Kian feels the same about Shirin; he fancies her and imagines her lips on his, but kept it quiet. Shirin and Kian both went their separate ways after school until 10 years later when they unexpectedly meet again at a friend's party in London. They have a lot in common: They have both faced discrimination — they were their school's only two non-white students and now Shirim finds the same situation at work. Shirin kept thinking of Kian throughout the decade-long separation. Even though Shirin kept in touch with her female friends from her high school days, she always had a sense of unfulfillment, a sense of pessimism and skepticism. Her parents had separated when she was in college. 'Shirin thinks there is an ugliness inside her sometimes, some kind of repressed anger that she takes out on other people in her mind,' the author writes. But her thoughts of Kian, and her desire for them to be together again one day, give her a sense of hope and relief. When the two reunite again in London at their friend Millie's 27th birthday party, Shirin's love for her old friend resurfaces. But it comes a little too late: Salma, who Kian was now seeing, is also at the party. Shirin even asks Kian to kiss her, but he doesn't because she's drunk. These would-be lovers have one final meeting — at a dinner party in New York in 2020, where Kian is now living. She confesses to having a lot of regrets and that she had been thinking about him during their decade-long separation. Kian confesses he had imagined her kissing him while they were in school. 'Why didn't we make it work?' Kian asks, adding that he wanted it to. Shirin responds with 'I want that, too…' Could this time be the time they finally get together? Or has a gulf developed between them? Beautifully written in simple language, the London-based British Iranian author Jafari continuously pulls anxious readers along to find out what becomes of Shirin's and Kian's craving for each other. book reviews: /hub/book-reviews
Associated Press
21-04-2025
- Entertainment
- Associated Press
Book Review: Sara Jafari's 'Things Left Unsaid' is a tale of tentative lovers who keep connecting
Sara Jafari's 'Things Left Unsaid' is a love-craving, tumbling tale of two Iranian British friends who first meet in high school — the self-skeptic and pessimist Shirin Bayat, and the traumatized Kian Rahimi. Kian was 15 years old when his older brother, Mehdi, was incarcerated and blames himself partly for what happened. Shirin, for her part, battles anxiety and depression. In high school in the northern English city of Hull, Shirin falls in love with Kian, her only close male friend, but she can't open up to him about it. Kian feels the same about Shirin; he fancies her and imagines her lips on his, but kept it quiet. Shirin and Kian both went their separate ways after school until 10 years later when they unexpectedly meet again at a friend's party in London. They have a lot in common: They have both faced discrimination — they were their school's only two non-white students and now Shirim finds the same situation at work. Shirin kept thinking of Kian throughout the decade-long separation. Even though Shirin kept in touch with her female friends from her high school days, she always had a sense of unfulfillment, a sense of pessimism and skepticism. Her parents had separated when she was in college. 'Shirin thinks there is an ugliness inside her sometimes, some kind of repressed anger that she takes out on other people in her mind,' the author writes. But her thoughts of Kian, and her desire for them to be together again one day, give her a sense of hope and relief. When the two reunite again in London at their friend Millie's 27th birthday party, Shirin's love for her old friend resurfaces. But it comes a little too late: Salma, who Kian was now seeing, is also at the party. Shirin even asks Kian to kiss her, but he doesn't because she's drunk. These would-be lovers have one final meeting — at a dinner party in New York in 2020, where Kian is now living. She confesses to having a lot of regrets and that she had been thinking about him during their decade-long separation. Kian confesses he had imagined her kissing him while they were in school. 'Why didn't we make it work?' Kian asks, adding that he wanted it to. Shirin responds with 'I want that, too…' Could this time be the time they finally get together? Or has a gulf developed between them? Beautifully written in simple language, the London-based British Iranian author Jafari continuously pulls anxious readers along to find out what becomes of Shirin's and Kian's craving for each other. ___ AP book reviews:
BBC News
04-04-2025
- Entertainment
- BBC News
London 'inaccessible' to Gen Z says Last Swim director
The director of a new film set in a sweltering London over 24 hours on A-Level results day says that the city he grew up in is now "inaccessible" to many Gen Z young Swim, Sasha Nathwani's first feature film, is the story of an ambitious British Iranian teen, Ziba (played by Deba Hekmat), who, along with her group of friends savours a day of total freedom, as well as experiencing tough decisions and heartbreak, before the group go their separate ways after director tells the BBC that "the film was developed and made by Millennials, but it's a Gen Z coming of age story".He says his interest in making the film was exploring the idea of lost youth and that the script, co-written by producer Helen Simmons, was written at the height of the Covid-19 pandemic, although filmed after restrictions ended. "It's not a pandemic film," he says, "but it was developed during that time when young people from all over the world were having the seminal years of their lives taken away."When Helen and I were writing it, the world was opening up and closing down, then opening up and closing down again. There was this pressure, and I remember seeing young people in the park, and thinking how must it be for them?"They all live with their parents, they've only got one day together, and tomorrow the world's going to close down again."So the question I was trying to pose with the film was, if you had one day to reclaim your youth, what would you do?" Nathwani, who's previously directed music videos as well as short films, says that it's his belief things have worsened for the young after Covid-19."I felt that the world was fraught when we were making it, when we were writing it, and now it's going out into the world, there's an argument that things are even worse now," he says."When I was 17 or 18, growing up in London, the city didn't feel inaccessible. It felt accessible, and I didn't feel like doors were being closed in my face."Now I don't even know how a young person has a 24-hour period of freedom without breaking the bank."He added: "We're in the middle of a cost-of-living crisis. Not only do things cost so much, but there just aren't opportunities. Education is challenging for lots of different reasons, and some people don't have access because of the exorbitant costs."You see that in the film, as Ziba and her friends are going their separate ways." Anxious about the future A 2023 study from Oxford University found that the mental health of young people had deteriorated during the UK's three Covid-19 lockdowns, compared with a similar study conducted before the the latest ONS (Office for National Statistics) figures found that around one in seven 16-24 year olds were not in work, education or training between October-December from the King's Trust charity from February 2025 found that most of the 16-25 year olds it had surveyed felt anxious about the future on a daily of the cast members of Last Swim are Gen Z, although Gangs of London actress Narges Rashidi also stars in the story, as Ziba's star Hekmat, a Kurdish British model and actor, was aged 21 when the film was made."As a generation, there have been things thrown at us, but also taken away," she says. "That's true of me, but when I look at my brothers, that's when my heart really goes out to the young. My brothers just turned 18 and 20 years old, they were going through adolescence during Covid, there so many changes in their personal and school life anyway, and then for all of that to happen."We're all still regrouping and refiguring ourselves out." 'Gen Z friendship' Filmed in the UK heatwave of 2022, Last Swim takes Ziba and her group of friends through well-known spots of London such as Portobello Road, Hampstead Heath and Primrose Hill by car, bike and publication Screen Daily said the film was "shot, one suspects, with a touch of guerrilla ingenuity... Last Swim also has a palpably improvised component in the friends' genially pitched running banter."The director agrees that the young cast had freedom to change the script "to make it as authentic as possible"."I think whenever you tell a story about young characters, you need to give them a certain amount of flexibility," Nathwani says."If there was a more natural way of delivering a line in a language that they would more authentically use, we would then write that into the script."And they were very good at challenging me as well. They would challenge me about choices that I and Helen had made on the page if they didn't feel it rang true of their characters.""This is Gen Z friendship on screen," adds Hekmat."Sasha says that his [Millennial] generation is the one of hard knocks and they didn't grow up with the idea that mental health needed to be considered in day to day lives," she says."I think a great way of seeing how connected this film is to Gen Z is just the friendship that me and the rest of the gang have together."They're not afraid to ask each other about their feelings and the boys aren't afraid to open up a bit more. I think it's really reflective of our friendships in the way that we are able to speak to each other." As independent cinema tries to seek a greater audience amongst the young post-Covid-19, Nathwani says he hopes his film captures the energy of youth, although tapping into some much harder emotions and decisions."That's the interesting thing about that strange time between school and further education, because the bond that you have with your friends from school will never be closer, tighter than it is during that summer," he explains."And the moment that summer ends, those bonds tend to break because people go in different directions. And just in the context of what's happening in the UK, but across the world too, I think that's really challenging for young people, more so than I think we envision." Last Swim is released in UK cinemas on 4 April, 2025.
